


The Path Not Travelled

by LadyRhiyana



Series: Time travel and other twists [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But I think it's interesting, F/M, I'm not sure what this is, Might-Have-Beens, Near Death Experiences, Not Really Character Death, What Was I Thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: I am not what I once was,he thought.I’m not what I should have been. I don’t know what I am, any more.You are exactly what you are,the voice said.No more, and no less.And then:Let me show you what you *could* have been. And then you may choose.**In which the author explores Jaime's might-have-beens.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Time travel and other twists [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1305521
Comments: 60
Kudos: 125





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a line from Star Trek V: The One Where Uhura Dances with Feathers and Spock Has a Half-Brother. Essentially, in response to an offer to take away his pain and trauma, Kirk says something like: I want my pain. I NEED my pain. Pain is what makes us who we are. 
> 
> Despite the over-acting, I've always wanted to explore that statement a little further.

**Prologue 1 - Brienne**

It was inevitable, really. Brienne cursed herself, afterwards – for not foreseeing it; for not knowing how to react when Jaime’s sword went flying, and Pod pressed the edge of his practice sword against his throat.

There was scattered laughter and ironic cheering from the watchers-on, and a number of not-so discreet comments.

Jaime passed it off with a laughing jest, clapping Pod on the back and smiling, but Brienne could see the razor-sharp edge of bitter, sardonic rage beneath. When he made a production of surrendering his place in the yard to another and slipped away, Brienne followed quickly on his heels.

“Jaime,” she called, her voice low as she hurried after him – always following him, elusive and unattainable. “Jaime, wait!”

He stopped in a quiet, hidden alcove, and she saw that his shoulders were hunched and his jaw was set, his breathing swift and angry. In a moment, though, he straightened up, drew in a long breath and turned, his lazy smile firmly in place –

“Don’t do that,” she said without thinking. “You don’t need to –”

“What?” he asked. “Pretend that I don’t care I was just disarmed by a green squire?”

She stopped, her hand half-raised as though to grasp his arm.

“I’ve known it for years, of course,” he said. “I’ve survived on bluff all this time. One of the benefits of infamy, I suppose.”

“Jaime.” She lowered her hand, tried to think of what to say. “You are more than your reputation.”

He only laughed. “Am I? Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I think it’s all I am.”

And before she could answer that, he turned and stalked away.

**

Not long after that, the darkness fell and the armies of the dead came to Winterfell. There was no more time for sparring, only survival.

**

**Prologue 2 – Jaime**

He did not feel the blow that killed him.

The wights had broken through the walls, had driven them through stand after stand, until he and Brienne were standing back to back before the weirwood tree, protecting Bran Stark, whose eyes were rolled up in his head.

_Protect Bran at all costs,_ was the last order they’d received, and as the wights pressed in on them from all corners it was all Jaime could do to hold them off. He was fending off four or five at once, concentrating only on holding on for one more moment, one more breath of life –

And then suddenly he was cold, so cold, and he couldn’t breathe, and he stumbled to his knees in the churned up snow, gasping.

“Jaime!” Brienne called, but she was hard-pressed fending off a great swarm of wights. Jaime tried to struggle back to his feet, his hand clenching uselessly on his sword, but he had no strength left; it was all he could do to hold himself upright.

He coughed, the copper-bright taste of blood in his throat, and fell back against the trunk of the weirwood tree, his eyes fixed on the stars above, oddly bright – bright as he’d ever seen them. How many times had he stared up at the night sky, heedless of their brilliance?

As brilliant as Brienne’s eyes, staring down at him now.

“Jaime,” she said, her voice breaking oddly. “Jaime, please.” She cradled him in her arms, and he remembered an old, throwaway comment. “You can’t die.”

He laughed, suddenly, his eyes blinking as darkness crept into the edges of his vision.

“Don’t cry, sweetling,” he managed to choke out, grinning. “It’s a good death.”

As the cold swept over him, as he felt his blood seeping into the tree, he thought he heard a voice say: _This is not how you die._

He frowned. _I’ll die if it pleases me_.

_No. You still have a role to play._

He could still feel Brienne’s armour digging into him; feel the cold of her gauntleted hands on his face. Some part of him could hear her, calling.

_I am not what I once was,_ he thought. _I’m not what I should have been. I don’t know what I am, any more._

_You are exactly what you are,_ the voice said. _No more, and no less._ And then: _Let me show you what you *could* have been. And then you may choose_.


	2. What he could have been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is what you could have been,_ the voice says.

_This is what you could have been,_ the voice says.

**

i.

He is not a twin.

He is one soul in one body, whole and complete, and he never learns to question anything – why should he, when he is his father’s eldest son and the world is his for the taking? 

He is tall and beautiful and brave and a fierce warrior, and he never thinks to enter the Kingsguard because glory is very well, but Casterly Rock is his destiny.

He is kind enough to Tyrion, if a little distant; he marries a woman of his father’s choosing, sires two or three squalling brats on her and then goes his own way. 

He is nothing very interesting.

**

ii.

He is not the eldest son.

He looks up to his big brother Tyrion – though by the time he’s ten years old, ‘big’ is a misnomer – and thinks him the font of all wisdom. Tyrion teaches him to read, taking the time to help him when the letters dance all over the page, and watches on proudly as the grooms put him on his first pony. He stands on the sidelines, cheering, as Jaime discovers his skill with a blade –

“I’ll be the lion’s cunning, Jaime, and you’ll be its claws,” he says, and Jaime laughs.

“Always,” he says.

**

iii.

She and Cersei are born in the same breath, no difference between them except Cersei has a cock and Jaime does not.

It makes all the difference in the world.

**

iv.

He is not a Lannister but a Hill.

He is raised in Lannisport, under the shadow of the Rock, so close and yet so far away from everything that might have been his, had his mother been Lady Joanna rather than the impoverished daughter of a landed knight. 

Lord Tywin – _never call him your father, darling,_ his mother says – pays for his education and for his training in the knightly arts. He practices hard, with some vague notion of one day impressing Lord Tywin and being taken into his service, perhaps as a bodyguard to the young lord; the man hired to teach him the sword says that he has the potential to be a great knight.

One day he sees Lady Cersei drive past in a gilded and carved wheel-house drawn by two white horses, Lannister guardsmen riding before and behind. One slender white hand draws the red velvet curtains aside, and he sees her: golden hair, and green eyes, the most beautiful woman in the world.

For an instant, their eyes meet, and _something_ passes between them –

**

v.

He is a young boy again.

He’s holding a practice sword in his hands, rejoicing in the feel of it, the weight and the balance and the rush of blood in his veins, but something’s missing – openings that should have been obvious he doesn’t see until too late, and strikes that he should have anticipated take him by surprise.

He can’t see the dance in his head, he can’t _feel_ it; he can’t move gracefully enough, he simply isn’t quick enough. His reflexes are _slow_. 

“Ah, well, lad,” the master at arms says. “You’re well enough, I’ll grant you, but you’ll never be great. You just don’t have the spark.”

**

He still squires for Sumner Crakehall. He’s still the leader of the boys there, because he’s a Lannister and because he knows how to win loyalty and friendship, but he’s not the best swordsman among the squires.

When they ride against the Kingswood brotherhood, no matter how hard he tries he can’t bring himself to Ser Arthur Dayne’s attention other than as the heir to Casterly Rock, and Jaime will die before he trades on his position in that manner.

He charges straight at the Smiling Knight, and has to be rescued once again by Ser Arthur – but instead of being amused and reluctantly impressed, Ser Arthur only shakes his head and says: “You’ve a good heart, lad, but you simply aren’t good enough.”

It cuts deeper than any blow.


	3. What he could have done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is what you could have done,_ the voice says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: this story is completely impulse-written and I have really no idea where this is all going, other than my desire to throw in *all* the might-have-beens. I appear to have taken a turn towards the dark and angsty.

_This is what you could have done,_ the voice says.

**

i.

He chooses the Rock over Cersei.

He enters the lists at Lord Whent’s great tourney, and he rides so well that none can stand against him, not even the prince.

He crowns Lyanna Stark / Catelyn Tully / Ashara Dayne / Elia Martell the Queen of Love and Beauty. 

Rhaegar still runs off with his wolf girl, and the kingdom is plunged into war.

This time, though, Lord Tywin remains Hand of the King.

When the prince calls his banners, Jaime rides beside him. But not even he can save Rhaegar’s life at the Trident.

Still, the rebellion is swiftly crushed, and Rhaegar’s son Aegon ascends the Iron Throne – with Lord Tywin as his regent.

(While the kingdoms were at war, the Mad King was slain by an unknown hand. No one mourns him overmuch.)

**

Cersei finally gets her Targaryen prince, if not the one she once dreamed of.

**

ii.

He chooses Cersei over the Rock.

At Lord Whent’s great tourney, he is raised to the Kingsguard to the sound of cheering and acclaim. Aerys allows him to enter the lists, and he rides so well that none can stand against him, not even the prince.

He crowns Lyanna Stark / Catelyn Tully / Ashara Dayne / Elia Martell the Queen of Love and Beauty. 

Rhaegar still runs off with his wolf girl, and the kingdom is plunged into war.

He goes with the Prince to the Trident. He goes with the Prince to the Tower of Joy.

He goes with the Queen to Dragonstone, and then to Essos with the young prince and newborn princess. 

He stays in King’s Landing and dies at the foot of the Iron Throne, slain by Ned Stark while defending a king he despises.

He stays in King’s Landing and dies protecting Princess Elia and her children.

**

Once, he hesitates at the last moment and cannot bring himself to kill Aerys.

The wildfire ignites. King’s Landing becomes the Mad King’s funeral pyre, leaving Robert king of nothing but ashes.

Jaime becomes no more than a footnote in the White Book: raised to the Kingsguard at fifteen, died with his king at seventeen. 

History does not remember him.

**

iii.

He becomes a kingmaker as well as a kingslayer.

He proclaims Rhaegar’s son Aegon king. He proclaims Viserys. He proclaims Robert. He proclaims his father.

He wrests the crown from Aerys’ blood-stained head and crowns himself.

**

iv.

He does not throw Bran Stark from the tower window.

Perhaps the boy talks. Perhaps he doesn’t.

But if not by Jaime’s hand, Bran is still crippled – some things are written in stone.

**

v.

He kills Brienne after she rains boulders down on the Tully galley.

She’s half-in and half-out of the water, looking up at him, her hand extended – for a moment he’s tempted to haul her in, admiring her sheer competence if nothing else, but he’s determined to be free of her.

He bashes her head in with an oar.

**

He kills Brienne on the riverbank. The wench puts up a damned good fight – better than most, and it’s exhilarating while it lasts – but the simple fact is that he’s better, more experienced, and cares nothing for chivalry or honour.

He runs her through, and feels nothing more than a slight pang.

**

The Bloody Mummers stumble across him anyway.

He loses his hand, and there is no-one to stop him willing himself to death.

Or if they don’t, he makes it back to King’s Landing with both hands intact, and never learns an ounce of humility.

More, he is still Cersei’s mirror: he never breaks free of her.

**


	4. How he could have lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is how you could have lived,_ the voice says.

_This is how you could have lived,_ the voice says.

**

i.

He marries Lysa Tully. She weeps desperately on their wedding day, her blue eyes always seeking out a slim, dark-haired boy in the shadows. No matter; his eyes are always seeking out Cersei.

It’s a miserable match.

**

He marries Catelyn Tully. She is a dutiful wife, strong and capable.

His father approves of her.

They find some sort of love, in time.

**

He marries Lyanna Stark, disgraced following her return from Dorne.

She is still wild and impulsive, though some lingering sadness remains; they do not speak of what happened when she (went with? was taken by?) Rhaegar.

_It’s over,_ she says. _Let that be the end of it._

Perhaps she never tells him about the babe. Perhaps in time she does.

Perhaps one day he comes face to face with Jon Snow, and feels a strange shock of recognition. 

**

He takes the throne and marries Cersei.

**

He marries a babe in arms on a remote island in the Narrow Sea.

He puts her out of his mind for almost two decades, until he sees her again in the dungeons of Riverrun.

**

ii.

After killing Aerys, he simply – walks away.

In the confusion of the city’s fall, he slips out of the city in disguise.

He becomes a hedge knight.

He runs away to Essos and becomes a water dancer in Braavos. He joins a company of sellswords. He joins a Dothraki khalasar and grows his hair long enough to braid and twine with bells, defeating all enemies to become the Khal.

He finds a remote island monastery in the Riverlands and lays down his sword. As the years pass, he lets go of all that he once was, until he is known only as Elder Brother.

When a hedge knight, a boy and a woman knight seek refuge and healing, he offers them the peace of the Quiet Isle.

**

iii.

He runs away with Cersei.

They go to Braavos, where she becomes a great courtesan and he a famous water dancer, fighting countless duels in her honour.

They go to Lys, where she becomes the proprietress of a pleasure house.

They become the queen and king of a band of savage pirates.

They have three children. But no matter where they go or what they do, Cersei is restless, always restless, always wanting more than what she has.

**

iv.

He is dragged out of Riverrun’s dungeons and married to Lady Catelyn’s sworn sword.

**

He triumphs in the Whispering Wood.

The Lannister forces sweep over the Riverlands, and the Northern rebellion is crushed.

He turns his attention to the Stormlands, and takes the Maid of Tarth prisoner when he defeats Renly’s army.

**

Ned Stark lives, and the Northmen return Jaime as part of a prisoner exchange.

He becomes Lord Commander to another Mad King.

This time, though, he’s more careful, and only Cersei mourns when Joffrey is torn apart in the bread riots.

Tommen makes a much better king. 

**

v.

He never takes the white cloak. He marries at his father’s command, sires an heir, and settles down to take up his responsibilities. If he’s not as capable or ruthless as his father, he’s strong enough; if he spends some of his time playing at tourneys, well, so do many other lords.

If there’s no glory in this life, there’s no infamy either – he is a good lord, an honourable man, and history remembers him only as Tywin Lannister’s son.

**

He spends long years after Aerys’ death locked in bitterness and cynicism, living only for his moments alone with Cersei. He cares nothing for honour, he tells himself; all these things he does for love.

It takes captivity, maiming and a figurative rebirth for him to remember the boy he once was, and how far he has strayed from what he once believed in.

The next time he dons the white cloak, he feels the full weight of it.

**

He casts his white cloak aside and follows Brienne on her quest.

**

He is stripped of his white cloak by Tommen’s order.

In the Riverlands, he faces a crossroads.

**

He spends his life torn between two contrasts: the white cloak and the crimson; between love and honour; between a woman who demands everything of him and a woman who believes he can be _more_.

In the end, he makes his choice.


End file.
